Category Archives: dress you up in my love

I am officially a wool convert, which is something I never thought would happen in a million years. Growing up in Chicago, I had no say in my winter apparel. My mom picked out my winter jacket, my scarf, my mittens (and those awesome little clips that hold mittens to the cuffs of your sleeves!), everything. As a little kid, I had no idea if I was wearing cashmere or polyester, although for the sake of full disclosure, I will say that the chances my mom put me in a cashmere ANYTHING at that age lie somewhere between “not a chance in hell” and “dream on.”

When I was in elementary school, we moved to warm sunny southern California and the need for warm winter clothes vanished. I had a few jackets for the inevitable winter rain, but usually I wore sweatshirts when the weather turned cold. The few jackets I had were chosen more because they were cute and had long sleeves than for actual insulation purposes.

In Catholic school, I was taught that the trinity was the father, the son, and the holy ghost. In cooking, I learned that there are several different trinities: French mirepoix (onion, carrot, celery), Italian soffritto (a little looser with the number of ingredients), Cajun mirepoix (onion, celery, bell pepper), Asian mirepoix (ginger, garlic, scallions), etc. What I discovered last weekend was my holy trinity of performance comfort.

When I was between colleges, I worked full time. When I went back to school, I kept working so I could pay the bills. In total, I worked at the same place for five or six years (prior to that, I temped in a bunch of different offices). I worked full time in an office that had a very strict business dress code. I later learned that each of the specific rules had been added each time someone (the same girl) wore something inappropriate. Some examples from the modified dress code:

No spandex.
No visible undergarments.
Necklines may not be more than four inches below the collarbone.
Skirts may not be more than four inches above the knee.
No bare midriffs.

These are all things that a normal person would know, but apparently some people need to be told not to dress like Patty the daytime hooker.